The Twisted Realities of Severus Snape
by OZ Angel
Summary: The lives of three people are intertwined in a most unusual way. A silly response to the Severitus meets WIKTT Challenge.
1. disclaimer and explanation

A Comedy of Errors or the Twisted Realities of Severus Snape  
  
Warning: reading disclaimers is bad for your health, and will result in a loss of time better spent reading the good stuff. But, since you're already reading this, it's not ours, ok? J.K. made it; we just sorta. corrupted it. It's out of character, it's out of control, it's. utterly pointless, but damn funny, so long as you're not a whiny little git who gets uppity about student teacher relationships, OOC stories, or Gaelic cursing in any form. I'd suggest suing us, but we have no money. Flames, however, are welcome, because we can't afford matches to light our cigarettes, and damn are we in need of a smoke.  
  
This wonderful tale of romance, pirates and monkeys was created as part of a Severitus meets WIKKT challenge. Kermit, if you please. YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, bugger off, frog. This is our first fanfic. Yay us. I'd say be gentle, but we probably really don't deserve it. Thanks, and enjoy the insanity.  
  
The rules: (please read, it'll help you understand the story better. honest. As the narrator, would I lie to you? Well, maybe you over there in the corner, but everyone else is pretty safe.) 1) The first rule of fight club is that everybody fights. Or something. 2) No running in the halls 3) No hexing first years. They're slow, there's no challenge.  
4) Wands should never be used for nose picking. Y'know what, keep them  
out of  
your body at all costs. Believe me, splinters are a bitch, and your  
best friends will never let you forget it if they have to snap on some  
latex to help you out of a. prickly situation.  
5) No hiring Peeves the poltergeist to scare the first years. There's  
no challenge, see rule three. Y'know what, pick on your own grade, you  
cowards!  
6) Don't run with wands. Like knives and scissors and goldfish, it  
never ends well.  
7) No exploding first years. We mean it this time. Oh, sure, it was  
funny the first eighteen times, but it's getting old now, and the  
parents are starting to complain. Not that we listen, but it's still  
annoying to clean the splats off the walls. 8) It's always funny until someone gets hurt. Then it's just hilarious. 9) There is no spoon.  
10) Streaking is forbidden in Quidditch unless you're drop dead  
gorgeous, and let me tell you, you're not. So keep your knickers on,  
unless you're Snape. Then just keep McGonagall's knickers on.  
11) Writing fanfics is hazardous to your sanity. We should know. We're  
insane.  
  
Oh, damn, wrong rules.. (Do not read if you get uppity about spoilers. I warned you. Nooo, don't read this, it's bad, it's wrong, it's meaningless!) Hermione and Snape must be having a relationship Snape must be Harry's father Both relationships must be a secret from the general population of the school/ wizarding world for the majority of the fic. Other rules apply, but I'll be damned if I can be bothered writing them.  
Now, lastly, a word from our sponsor: GO YOU BIG RED FIRE ENGINE. 


	2. In Which There Is The Traditional Angsty...

A Comedy of Errors or the Twisted Realities of Severus Snape  
  
Prologue  
  
In which there is the traditional angsty bit of the story.  
  
Severus Snape was evil. He could come up with no other explanation as he emerged from the house in Godric's Hollow one peaceful morning. He felt disgusted with himself as he contemplated the events of the night before. "James what are you doing back so soon?" asked a sleepy sounding voice from the doorway. "Forgot some work" he replied simply as he turned to face Lily Potter. The nightgown she wore clung to her curves and he fought to keep his eyes on her face as she moved towards him, asking him to stay the rest of the night with her before returning to his work. He was weak. He had stayed. Knowing that he was an impostor, knowing that he was not her husband, he had taken her to bed.  
  
A sound behind him startled him and he turned, quickly drawing his wand to look straight into the eyes of Remus Lupin. "What are you doing here Snape?" Lupin asked while his wand remained aimed at the other man's chest. Severus snarled and raised an eyebrow fractionally. "And what business is that of yours, Lupin?" For his part, the former Gryffindor seemed unconcerned with the greased, black clad being before him, for a moment anyway. Just as the teacher turned, triumphantly planning to walk away, he heard the animalistic snarl of his former house rival. "You sick bastard." Suddenly wary, the potion master turned to face the werewolf. "I can smell her on you, Snape. I can smell Lily all over you." Scowling and cursing himself for his momentary crow of triumph, Snape loomed menacingly over the meddling git before him. "Your point, Lupin?" "I can get you put in Azkaban for this, Snape. It's just one more reason to prove you're working against us, that you're still the traitor we always knew you were." Snape smirked, the truly awesome grin of a creature whose prey has walked neatly into a trap. The smirk of one about to verbally dissect an opponent. His voice melted to silk, a trademark of looming doom for whoever was foolish enough to cross the bitter master of potions. "And who would believe you, Remus? Who would rush to defend an abomination such as yourself? Should my secret be revealed, you flea ridden mongrel, rest assured that we shall share the same rotting cell. People may loathe me, but there is something they fear and loathe even more. you. Do you want to lose everything, Remus?" Remus froze.  
  
He'd never thought Snape would do this, never. He was a bastard, sure, but bedding Lily Potter and threatening exposing another person? He shook his head, wondering what the hell to do. If he told James, Lily would be in trouble. The poor bint probably had no idea she'd made love to Snape instead of her husband. she could lose it all because of him. And Lupin, Christ could he lose it all. Snape, for all his charming tendencies, was right. He'd be thrown into Azkaban quicker than the greased git himself. Sighing, he knew what he had to do, though he hated himself for it. "Fine, Severus, fine. You win. I'll keep quiet." It was only one night, what could happen? His last vision was a smirking Snape apparating away. 


	3. In Which There Is A Feline Flag Raising,...

Chapter 1.  
  
In which there is a feline flag raising, Hobbit weed and McGonagall's underwear.  
  
Diagon Alley was always a bustling metropolis of wizarding life. People bustled from shop to shop, waving or scowling as spruikers shouted sales pitches into the already noisy mob scene. It was hot, it was sweaty, and Hermione Granger was glad she was getting her supplies early. Sure, she could wait and buy them when she met up with her friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in two weeks time, but then she'd miss a fortnights worth of reading time. And Hermione Granger didn't like missing her reading time. So she'd do what she did every single year; go and buy her books a bit early, then come back to meet her friends and help them find the books they needed. The perfect solution. A solution that had the added advantage of hiding her ever growing extra-curricular reading section from the two people who thought she already read too much. Not that they objected when someone was trying to kill them, of course. Sighing and pushing such useless thoughts aside, she continued her search for the ever elusive Herbs of the World and How to Brew Them by I. Cantwriteforshit. It was a rare tome, one she had searched for three long years for. And now. she gasped in rapture. There it was. Almost shining majestically in a patch of bright morning light. Her delicate hand reached lovingly for the book, only to be slapped aside roughly. She squeaked, not her most brave response, but it hurt! Scowling, she looked into the eyes of the rude bastard that slapped her, and tried hard not to faint in terror. Just her bloody luck, the rude bastard was the greasy git himself: Severus Snape.  
  
"Miss Granger, is there something I can reach for you?" He loomed threateningly, and she gulped, suddenly wishing she'd never wanted to read I. Cantwriteforshit. Maybe she should have stuck with more common writers, like I. Suckasahumanbeing. Good author, a bit. mentally deficient sometimes, but who could complain? She only returned her thoughts to the present in time to see the potions master glide effortlessly through the crowd, her book in his greasy, inhuman hands. 'Bastard!'  
  
Being a Granger, and a curious one at that, she took the only option open to her. She stalked him. No matter where he shopped, she followed him, glaring nervously at him whenever she was sure he couldn't see her. It was only when he entered what looked suspiciously like an underwear shop that she gave up. For about twenty seconds. Then, she followed him inside, smirking at the women's garments strewn around the store. 'For the love of all things shiny let him be a drag queen.' she was seriously disappointed when she heard the voices. "Yes, Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore did owl us to say you were picking up a parcel for a sick member of staff." 'Dammit!' "Yes, yes just get on with it. With all due respect to your fine establishment, it does my reputation no good to be haunting a women's underwear store. People might talk, especially if said people are stalking me. Isn't that right, Miss Granger?" Suddenly turning a previously undiscovered shade of red, Hermione emerged from behind a rack of wonder bras and faced him. "Why, yes sir. People might think you wear women's underwear under all that black. maybe a nice red would be suitable?" She gulped, wondering where the hell that gem of stupidity came from. He smirked. "Indeed, Miss Granger, I wouldn't be caught dead in any colour besides that of the house I loathe. It's not nearly as enjoyable in the subtle hues of Slytherin." "Oh, silver wouldn't suit you, sir; it'd make you look more like a drag. er. nevermind." "Oh, do continue, Miss Granger. Your babbled speech is the highlight of my day, and the very reason I ventured into the light." "Fine, sir, I was just going to say you stole my damn book!" He rolled his eyes. The git actually rolled his eyes at her! What a.git. She sighed, she really needed better insults, this was getting embarrassing. "Miss Granger, I assure you that the book was not your property. You see, we have this magnificent thing called commerce. To own something, you actually have to pay for it. Now, if you could show me the receipt issued to you when you purchased this text, I will gladly hand it over. well, hurry up, girl, or have you realised your blathering is wasted on me?" She sighed. "You're such a bastard." He paused, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Excuse me?" "I said, and I'll slow it down because you're obviously having issues with the language. You. Are. A. Bastard." He laughed. "You know, I could take points off for such vile behaviour." "Dumbledore wouldn't let you. I could kick you in the balls while on holidays and you couldn't do a thing against me at Hogwarts." He laughed harder, and actually, god forbid, looked. happy. Amused. Young. Kinda.sexy, too. She almost gagged at her last thought, but bit back a look of abject horror. He smiled, not smirked, but actually smiled. "In all my years of teaching, no one has ever had the balls to say what you just did. Not even a Slytherin. I'm impressed." "Then can I at least read the book?" He nodded, handed her the parcel of underwear (she giggled softly and tried not to imagine a Rocky Horror Snape) and the pair wandered towards the Leaky Cauldron .  
  
Snape almost threw up his lunch when he realised, actually realised, that he had laughed in front of the know it all brat of Gryffindor. The princess of pain-in-the-ass, she had made his life miserable for six years. Well, not miserable, really. After all, she was the only intelligent mind in a school of gods only knew how many inbred abominations. Muggleborn or no, she was good. And she knew her shit about potions. Why else would she be hunting an old, out of print volume of near forgotten potion lore? Actually, that had him curious. Why would a teenage girl give up drunken make out sessions with some unnamed cretin to read up on three hundred ear old herbs and how to mash them? He cleared his throat, an almost feline curiosity sweeping over him. "Miss Granger, I must ask, why were you looking for this book?" She blushed. Goddamn it, the kid blushed. "I.er." he quirked an eyebrow and smirked in amusement. "I. because, sir, I'm well advanced of the practical potions we do in class, I thought if I could find some light reading on more advanced work, you might. er. you might let me do my final studies on potion making." He blanched. This was light reading? It weighed damn near ten kilos! He has been under the impression that he was alone in such anal retentive quests for knowledge. It was almost heartbreaking to know the little brat shared his love. Almost. The hidden, secret, sentimental side of his brain screamed the phrase 'soul mate' in a sing song voice as it threw flowers and picked up a furry little kitten. The real Snape quickly beat him for such. vulgar stupidity. Until then he hadn't realised multiple personalities came with chainsaws. Today was obviously starting to get better.  
  
Unfortunately, that sentimental side was Snape's very own Energiser bunny. Even in a thousand bloody pieces, it still continued its hauntingly evocative rendition of 'Snape and Granger sitting in a tree. k.i.s.s.i.n.g.first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes.' Snape interjected with 'the threat of major carnage', and the voice fell silent. If only he realised he'd actually said it aloud. Then the stunned, nervous, and almost. worried frown etched on his student's face wouldn't have seemed so. confusing. Oh well. "Professor, are you having a psychotic episode? My aunt had one once, she tried to use my cat as a flag, tied it to the flagpole and everything." He blinked as she continued on about her relative singing the anthem to an airborne feline. He could almost see the old bint saluting, tears of pride trickling down her face. It was about then he fell from his seat, laughing hysterically. Well, wouldn't you if you were imagining a fat old Granger saluting a flying pussy? Moments later, she too fell from her perch, giggling insanely as the image entered her own mind. Patrons were understandably nervous, wondering with some dread if the child had gotten the professor stoned. Surely, it had to be some good old fashioned Hobbit-weed? For hours to come the pair giggled and retold stories, pausing only to try and breathe through gut-wrenching whoops of mirth.  
  
Hours passed in amused conversation, until in one god granted moment, Snape realised Hermione's sick, erotic, lustful fetish. Swearing in foreign languages. It was almost sexy the way her mouth curved around the pronunciation as she verbally attacked him, not expecting him to understand. It had been just after he had politely, ever so Snapishly, too, called her an idiot. Without thinking, she responded with a hearty "Go gcreime na gráinneoga cealgrúnacha do chuid fo-éadaigh." He had laughed loudly. "May the malevolent hedgehogs gnaw at your underwear?" he had gasped through raucous laughter, eyes watering at the visual image. She giggled and grinned at him. "Ron and Harry never realise what I'm saying, it's always good for a laugh to see them sneak into the library to try and research what I had said." He laughed, knowing full well the pair likely attempted to use them on other people, and likely screwed it up royally. She had smiled curiously at him then, her eyes wide in smirking amazement. "Hey, how'd you know what it meant, anyway?" He returned the smirk habitually, and winked. "Been spending too much time in the restricted section for my own good. There's a reason most of the school isn't allowed to read those books." She laughed, "Yes, I must admit I was shocked to find the Karma Sutra there on the shelves, with pages missing." "Yes, I must return those sometime." the pair laughed again, the idea of Snape styled booty call too much to bear without giggles. When the giggle fit subsided, he turned to her, serious for a moment. "People are giving us strange looks, Miss Granger. I do believe they think we're having a. what did you call it? Feline flagpole incident? Perhaps we should continue this discussion away from prying eyes? Both our reputations seem in jeopardy." She nodded mutely, and the pair wandered slowly, inconspicuously, into the Leaky Cauldron, never knowing what awaited them.  
  
The pair sat in reverential silence, awed into monastery like servitude at the hands of their beloved book. She was awesome, filled with all the good bits both had fantasised about. "Look, Professor! I hadn't known there was a cure for blondeness using nightshade, mandrake and arsenic!" He had chuckled. "I'm not sure if it's a remedy or a mercy killing, Hermione." She grinned. "Yes, but imagine the blondes at Hogwarts." he laughed at that, visions of fallen cherubs, blonde and blue, dancing in his head. "I never knew you had.issues. with blondes, Hermione. I'd have thought someone so enamoured with that Lockhart git would be more sympathetic to their plight." "It's that moron that makes me hate blondes, sir. He ruined it for me, him and Malfoy." "Ah, Malfoy, the educational bane of my existence. Losing my job would almost be worth that mercy killing." she smirked. "And here I was thinking you loved the little twerp." "Who? The ferret? Never! I'd rather wear McGonagall's underwear than show him any form of decency. Speaking of, it was her illness that led me to that store, and I'll deny it's existence if forced to." "Your secret's safe with me, sir. Otherwise I'd have to admit to stalking you, sir." "Severus, please. As you so eloquently informed me earlier, we're not in class now, Hermione." Before the conversation could continue, he gasped in ecstasy. "Look, here, Hermione! I've been searching for this!" "A spell to reverse. Severus, is this why you bought the book?" He nodded. "Again, if necessary, I will deny it." "That's possibly the sweetest thing I've ever heard. but.er. that's why I was looking for the book. I figured I could use this potion as my final piece, and if it worked." "Remus would no longer be a werewolf." He finished for her, smiling softly. "I thought you hated him, Severus." "In a way, I do. On the other hand, though, I owe him a debt of gratitude. He's helped me in the past, though under duress, and if I can give him this, maybe he will one day be able to forgive my sins." "Then why were you such an ass to him while he was teaching?" "Had I done anything else, the school's death eaters in training would have cried to their parents. It would have been worse had I not played the part of the bastard, Hermione." She nodded. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're not the greasy, evil, bastard git from hell I thought you were." "And you're not the prissy, stuck up little know it all I assumed." "You're so sweet, Severus." "If anyone but you called me that, I'd hex them into oblivion." "Aww, I'm honoured." He scowled, but only for a moment. She could have sworn he blushed. 


	4. In Which Snape Has A Booty Call

Chapter Two  
  
In which Snape has a booty call.  
  
The meeting occurred at Diagon Alley. Again incidental, the final days of holidays saw the Potions Master leaving his room at the Inn, walking stealthily downstairs (why walk noisily when Lupin was in his room sulking and ready to come out and hex him at a moments notice?) and into the painfully bright morning light. The usual noxious crowds of students enjoying their last taste of freedom filled the alley with their vile stench: the scent of youth and excitement and hope for the future. It was nauseating. Silencing the growl of annoyance rising within him, he walked towards Flourish and Blotts, wondering if he could find any other new reads before replenishing his herb supply. It was as he walked slowly from the apothecary, laden with new books and herbs to play with, that he stumbled into a lithe figure. He caught himself just in time to keep from grinning, and plastered his usual scowl upon his face. "Watch where you're going." She frowned. "Good morning, Professor." "Oh, Miss Granger, it's you." he was about to launch into a rant about the stupidity of Gryffindor students, his favourite morning topic, when an obnoxious sound filled the air. "Good morning, Professor." Malfoy. Worse than a Malfoy was a Malfoy impersonating Hermione Granger. He rolled his eyes. "Gee, Malfoy, you're so good at sounding like a woman anyone'd think you already wore a dress." He covered his mouth to keep from laughing at the girl's remark. "Miss Granger!" the admonishment was only half-hearted, his satisfied smirk surely showing through. What could he say? Draco Malfoy was a Nancy. He used Nancy boy hair gel, and likely frolicked when no one was looking. Truth be told, Snape had wondered if affection for women's clothing was the reason behind the boy's effeminate locks. Damn, but he could almost imagine the boy in a field with a pretty pink evening gown. he coughed to cover his bark of laughter, noting the smirk and raised eyebrow on Granger's smug face, and the look of confused annoyance on Malfoy's pasty head. It was Malfoy who renewed the banter. "So, mudblood, planning on returning? You know, I made it to Head Boy this year." "Who'd you blow to get that job, Ferret? Filch, maybe? Maybe Mrs Norris. nah. fur balls. " He paused as his face turned a most unbecoming red and he fought to think of something bitchy enough to say. "You stupid, ignorant, little." "Mister Malfoy, may I remind you that, no matter how obnoxious the girl is, you are forbidden to use such vulgar language in my presence. Otherwise, I'd have to defend her, and we wouldn't want that." "Bitch." Malfoy slung as he began to stalk away, defeated. "Go bpléasca scata Fomhórach ólta do chuid fo-éadaigh." Draco turned, feeling confused and slightly insulted, but, seeing the look on his teacher's face, left without a word. Surely, had she said something, the man would have whooped her from here till doomsday. Surely. "Tsk, tsk Hermione, you seem to have a fetish for Gaelic insults involving the loss of men's underwear." "Hey, I doubt Ferret would mind some drunk Fomorians taking his g-string. He'd probably enjoy it." "I'm sure he would, however, you should be aware that, should a pack of drunken Fomorians really blow up his underwear, I shall be forced to serve you with a detention for cursing him." "Ha! Giving him his wet dreams more like." Laughing, the pair wandered into the crowd.  
  
"So, Miss Granger, what plans have you for the remainder of your vacation? Reading or running with the pack of Gryffindor's you associate with?" "Actually, professor, I was wondering if I could copy out the spell for my final assignment. that is, if it was alright with you, sir." "Wanting to start early? Need I remind you that students are forbidden to use such ingredients.?" Hermione sighed sadly, wishing for the thousandth time she could experiment with such deadly ingredients. The trials on other students alone would be brilliant. "I know, professor. I just wanted to get it memorised before school began." Raising an eyebrow, he frowned. "The volume is safely in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Miss Granger. However, I need to return there for an hour or so to meet with Dumbledore. You may accompany me, if you wish, and transcribe the work while I'm away." She grinned. "Alright, give me ten minutes to get out of these wanky clothes, and I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron." "Wanky clothes, Miss Granger?" "Well, I was meant to meet up with Harry and Ron, and they don't like my usual clothes. They never bloody showed, the gits. I wear these to shut them up." The wanky clothes in question were a pair of loose blue jeans and a pink sweater. He nodded and left her to get ready, rolling his eyes and wondering how many times a day this girl needed a change of clothing. Honesty, women.  
  
Ten minutes later, the Potions Master was rather grateful for the change of clothes. Now she stood before him, standing tall and looking so much more confident in tight black jeans (dear God how much magic did it take to get her in those?!?), a tight fitting AC/DC shirt (and when did she develop taste??? Honestly, it was one of the only muggle bands Snape liked!) and steel toed Docs. The quiet, bookish girl was dead, replaced by a bad-arsed little punk. For a moment he performed his best imitation of a stunned fish, too shocked to hear the snort of laughter emanating from the student in question. She cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Something wrong, Severus?" "When the hell did you develop taste, Granger?" She laughed and looked him over. "Always had it, just never showed it off. Now, are you going to stand here ogling the contents of my shirt, or shall we go?" Sighing, and turning a pale shade of crimson, he took her arm and apparated to Hogwarts.  
  
The school looked. well, like it looked every other time she came there. There was castle, there was forest, there was. a dragon walking calmly around the lake? What the fuck? Wide eyed, she turned to Snape for an explanation. "Something wrong, Hermione?" "Only the huge fucking lizard wandering the grounds, sir." He smirked. "You know full well it's not a lizard, Miss Granger. Honestly, and here I was thinking you were intelligent." "Fine, a big, fat, scaly thing. Hows that?" "I'm sure it has a name." "It's a dragon, you tosser!" He smirked. "Now, now, Miss Granger, I don't think name calling was needed." "Actually, I think it was. Now, can we get away from the scaled wonder for a while?" Nodding, and smirking at her fear of dragons, he led her to the dungeons, wondering if it were possible to ask Hagrid to ensure she had to care for the dragons at least once. preferably when the females were PMSing.  
  
The appointment with the aging headmaster took longer than expected. Cursing his luck, and suddenly remembering the cauldron left bubbling in his office (a headache cure he always brewed himself before the little snots returned to bother him) he flew through the castle, robes billowing like. something billowy, and ran like heck to the dungeons. HIS dungeons. Oh, sure, he didn't own the school, but he'd curse the underwear off anyone stupid enough to say it wasn't his turf. Out of breath, he ran into the classroom, noting a lack of Granger. "I'm in here, sir!" she called out. In his bloody office! The little prat was in his goddamn office! He'd flay her, he'd hang her by her pinkies, he'd. "Your cauldron was about to bubble over, sir. I though I should investigate, in case it was something toxic or flammable." He nodded slowly. "And did you work out what kind of potion it was, Hermione?" "A simple headache cure, Sir. Well, I thought it was at first, anyway, then I realised it was missing an ingredient." He raised an eyebrow "And what is missing?" "Usually the brew uses minute amounts of Belladonna, but there is none in here. I thought I'd ask you about it when you came back." He sighed wearily. "Are you sure there is no belladonna in there?" She nodded and frowned. "You. you forgot an ingredient?!?" Her voice was shocked, awed, almost smug, the little bint. "Tell anyone and I'll fail you, and all your descendants." She frowned. "Is there... is there anything you can do to fix the potion, Professor?" "If I add some chamomile, it will become a cure for insomnia. I suppose that is better than nothing, although it means I shall be without relief for the first week of term." She frowned. "It takes that long to brew?" "No, only hours, however, this is my last trip here until classes begin, and I must get you home." "But. I. can I stay and watch you make the cure, Severus, please? I've never seen this potion made before, it's incredibly interesting and." he rolled his eyes. Trust Granger to begin babbling at the idea of work. Everyone else would have run away, but no, she had to go and be all nice about it. "Fine."  
  
The pair worked in (scarily enough for Snape) comfortable silence. Before the sun had set, the potion was bubbling away, a charming shade of puce that seemed to make Hermione slightly nauseas. Cracking his neck loudly, he began to stretch, a feline like movement that, unknown to him, showed off his denim clad arse to his all too willing female voyeur. She bit her lip, the impulse to reach out and pinch her teacher's butt almost overpowering. If he noticed the slight shine of drool on her face, he was gentleman enough not to mention it, for a moment at least. "Granger, what the hell is that on your chin?" She reddened, and made an excuse about coughing when she'd had a drink. Sure, she hadn't had a drink in nearly three hours, but he wouldn't realise that, would he?  
  
She stretched then, sticking her chest out and moaning softly as her muscles returned to life. Had her eyes been open, she would have seen her teacher staring transfixed at her breasts, eyebrow raised as a feint flush crept over his features. Suddenly, he felt the need to put his robe back on. When her eyes opened once more, he was in his robe, looking pointedly at a wall. "Shall we return to Diagon Alley, Miss Granger?" She nodded, staring up at him with big dumb cow eyes. All trusting and innocent, all his thoughts screamed various erotic ways of corrupting her, her mouth wide as she screamed his name. All except for one voice, which screamed the phrase 'love' until being bludgeoned to death by the other voices. Surely, there had to be a potion to shut them all up. Shaking his head, he led her outside the school grounds and took her hand, apparating the pair back to his room in the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
As the author, it's my job to let you know what's going through the mind of our characters. Let me then explain that the pair are horny as hell, looking at each other like they're a fine piece of ass, and all too ready to throw the other down and ravish them. Unfortunately for those wanting to read about this, they're both rather. prudish at times. Both want to get it on, but, because they're Hermione and Severus, their brains are getting in the way. While they're both freaking about a student/teacher fling, their bodies are trying to figure out ways of turning that damned brain off for a few hours. Because they know, like everyone on the planet knows, sometimes you just need a root. Now, on with possibly the most frustrating part of this whole damn story.  
  
"Did you transcribe it all, Hermione?" "Yes, I did." He nodded mutely, searching for something to say that didn't use the phrase 'fuck me, fuck me now.' He continued nodding for about thirty seconds, still desperately trying to think of something witty yet profound to say. Realising that there were no sentences left to him that didn't contain sexual references; he did the only thing his horny little mind could think of. He leaned over and kissed her passionately. The crowd went wild. er. very quietly so they wouldn't get sprung. She returned the kiss hungrily, his mind reeling as he finally understood that she was as sexually frustrated as himself. With a fluid movement, his hands snaked around her waist, and he carried her to the bed.  
  
It was Hermione's first view of a man's. twig and giggle berries. She was awed. Dear God, was it meant to stand like that? Sure, she'd never seen a man's. er. doodle, but damn he was hung! Like an elephant or something. Granted, in her earlier years she had fantasised about Lockhart and Krum and even, God forbid, Neville Longbottom, but never to the point of visualising their wizard staffs. Holy heck, but she was stupid not to. Honestly, had she seen one before now, she would have been far more proficient with the wedding tackle than she was. Unfortunately, all the books she'd read about sex didn't come with very good instructions. Pretty much lie back and moan a lot. In the back of her mind, a little voice told her to practice up, so she could write her own damn book. 'Hermione's guide to Humping', or maybe 'Granger's guide to getting it on', 'Hermione's guide to handling man meat', or 'Granger's guide to good old fashioned shag fests'. It was only when his lips descended upon hers, his tongue probing her mouth that her mind returned to the present and a jolt of fear rippled through her. She had no idea how to screw!  
  
Phwoar! Now, Severus Snape prided himself on being above such silly male displays of masculinity, but honestly, when he'd grabbed a handful of Granger, he almost swooned like a woman. Sure, he'd been reduced to stroking the sausage o' love for about ten years now, but surely he'd have been able to remember the feel of a woman in his hands? Obviously not. So when she moaned softly into his mouth, his mind struggled to focus on what he'd done to create such a sound. By Merlin's Magical Thong, he wanted her to make that noise again. And again. And again. His hands fumbled over her clothing, desperate to rip it from her body, but sure she wouldn't appreciate the sudden chill. after all, the rooms were fucking freezing this time of year. Actually, they weren't, but he was a coward. As his fingers tried in vain to remove her stupid, bastard of a muggle booby holding device (he vaguely remembered she called it a bra. He loathed bras. They were evil. He'd have to remember to teach her how to make her breasts levitate perkily sometime. Honestly, lace up wonderbra bodices, a witch's bra, were so much easier to remove than these. They had to be designed by demons or feminists. No man would make revealing titties this damn hard) a thought occurred to him. If he couldn't remember all his tricks for removing muggle clothes. could he remember the proper use of penis? If he paled, he was too pasty for her to see it.  
  
It was when he accidentally thrust into her stomach that Snape realised he may need a little more practice. Swearing internally, he looked her over, found the hole he wanted, and thrust. After a few thrusts, his memory returned to him, mentally slapping him upside the head for confusing her stomach and her sex. And, thank fuck, she'd been too busy tonguing him to notice the screw up. so to speak.  
  
Hermione Granger was in heaven. There were more books here than she'd ever seen in the Library. Wait, no there wasn't. In reality, the room was a dingy, dank little cesspool, but she was young with a vivid imagination. She could pretend she wasn't on her back, legs in the air with her Potions Master giving her the lesson of her life in a cesspool. Before she could continue, her mind returned to the present with a jolt as he struck a nerve. She didn't know humans could make that noise.  
  
Downstairs, unable to hear any of the moans and screams from the room ironically next to his own, a certain Remus Lupin sat hunched over a beer, sighing loudly and depressingly (killing the mood, isn't he?). Had he realised the cause of his manic episode was upstairs in the throes of passion, maybe things would be different. As is, he was upset.  
  
Authors Note- hi. Thanks for reading this far. The site from which these amazingly spiffy Gaelic insults originate is . For the love of shiny stuff, go spend time there. Learn new and confusing ways to involve hedgehogs in your collection of insults! Go on. you know you wanna. Oh, and if you own the site with those spiffy insults. you rock. You are a God. Yay you! 


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